Page 69 of Fitch

I kept replaying everything he’d said. He’d thought I was going to leave him. He’d said it made him feel ill and heartbroken.

And that was a declaration, of sorts.

Not outright, but an admission to feelings.

Feelings that matched mine.

Because if tonight’s events proved anything to me, it was an admission of my own.

I had feelings for him. Not just the daddy/boy thing. But actual feelings. Not affection, not fondness, though they were true.

This was more.

Was it love?

I wasn’t sure . . .

But it certainly could be.

Hell, maybe it already was.

It didn’t help that I woke up to him lying in the bed next to me, with his briefs pulled down, smearing his arse with lube. “Daddy,” he whined. “Thank god you’re awake. If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die.”

I blinked, my eyes not even adjusted to the light yet. “Is that right?”

He nodded. “It’s not my fault. I slept next to you all night, and when I woke up, your cock was pushed against me and it made me tingly all over, daddy.”

I snorted.

This fucking boy.

My morning wood took zero convincing, wanting inside him.

Fitch rolled onto his stomach, raised one leg and stuck his pert little arse up. “You’re still not inside me,” he whined, stretching his arms up under his pillow. He began to roll his hips, humping the mattress, each breath a quiet moan. “Daddy, please.”

Like I could ever deny him.

I went to my knees between his legs and ran my hands over his back, over his arse, down the backs of his thighs, easily covering his small, pale frame. “This body,” I whispered. “So fucking sexy.”

He replied by lifting his arse higher, his hand coming around to rub over his taint, lube smearing in its wake, his fingertip dipping inside him. “I will do it myself if you won’t.”

I snatched his hand away and pinned it above his head, leaning over him. “No one fucks you but me,” I bit out. With my other hand, I shoved my pyjama pants down far enough to free my cock, and with my fist at the base of the shaft, I pushed into his slick hole.

He cried out, arching his back, so I let go of his wrist and wrapped my arm around his chest, holding him to me as I sunk into his body. The back of his head rested against my neck, his breaths now short and sharp. “This what you wanted, boy?” I whispered. “You wanted daddy’s cock, so you’ll take all of it, won’t you, boy?”

Panting, whining, he trembled as he tried to nod. “Yes, thank you, daddy.”

God, he felt so good.

He fit so well between my thighs, underneath me. The way his body took me, slow and deep... it was heaven.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” I bit out. “You were made for daddy, weren’t you, boy?”

“Yes,” he whined. “All for you.”

I could have so easily just fucked him like this all day, every day. But something changed for me last night. Something deeper than sexual needs and gratification. I wanted him to feel this connection. I wanted him to know...

I pulled out slowly and slid my arm out from underneath him.

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